The three of them stood together in the back hall. It was cool after the sunny garden. Miss Mayfield was puzzled; the other two wore the appearance of waiting for the other to speak. Finally, letting out her breath in an impatient, faintly disgusted way, Mrs Mott-Tyler said:

‘Would you mind opening your bag?’

More puzzled than ever, Miss Mayfield did so, exposing its meagre contents. There was a purse which, when she had opened it and looked into it in the hospital, had contained eight shillings and four pennies and which had been reduced by one and sixpence for the smallest size of tubes of toothpaste, and by two shillings when she insisted upon returning Mrs Mott-Tyler’s ‘treat’ of morning coffee during one of their visits to the town; there was a comb and some hairpins, a powder compact of the old-fashioned kind, a fountain pen, the book of stamps, a nail file and a key ring.

‘Were you wearing a coat this afternoon?’

‘I took it, but it turned warm so I left it in the car. What is all this about?’

‘Where is the coat?’

Miss Mayfield turned towards the row of pegs which ran along the wall by the back stairs.

‘I brought it in and hung it up on my way through to the garden. Would you mind telling me . . .’

‘Would you mind showing us what you have in the pockets of the coat?’

‘Why should I?’

She went, with a feeling of impending disaster, to the place where the coat hung and felt in the nearer pocket; it contained a handkerchief. As she twisted the coat to reach the other pocket, she heard the faint crackle of cellophane. She moved her hand quickly and brought out a pair of nylon stockings.

‘I swear,’ she said, ‘I didn’t put them there; How did you know they were there?’

Mrs Mott-Tyler said, ‘I did offer to lend you money, you know.’

Miss Ellison answered Miss Mayfield’s question.

‘The girl in the shop saw you take them this afternoon, while I was buying mine. Thank God she was too shocked to make a fuss, but she went and reported to Mr Blundell, and he’s just been on the phone.’

‘Lies, all lies,’ Miss Mayfield said violently. ‘I never touched the stockings until this minute. Are you accusing me of shoplifting? I don’t even need stockings. I have several pairs. And I don’t wear this kind or colour.’

‘Kleptomania isn’t governed by people’s needs,’ said Miss Ellison.

‘I’m going straight down to that shop to face that girl with her lie. I don’t know how those stockings got into the pocket of my coat, but one thing is certain: I didn’t put them there. And she didn’t see me touch them.’

‘The shop is closed now.’

‘Then I shall go in the morning.’